


Shopping Trip

by garlic8reath



Category: The Venture Bros
Genre: Gen, M/M, groceries for dorky manchildren
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-16
Updated: 2018-01-16
Packaged: 2019-03-05 14:53:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13390191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/garlic8reath/pseuds/garlic8reath
Summary: Billy and Pete take a routine trip to the grocery store.





	Shopping Trip

**Author's Note:**

> Old fic from August 2013, cross-posted from my tumblr. Not terribly shippy, can be read as Billy and Pete just being besties, as per usual.

Pete White was beginning to regret complaining to Billy about his choice in shampoo. It wasn’t the complaint itself he regretted—that generic shampoo really did make Pete’s scalp so oily that it had become a zit minefield—rather, he regretted his timing. If he had known Billy would drag him to the store that night so he could pick out a proper shampoo, he would have kept his mouth shut and ordered in bulk online.

“It’s not a death sentence, White! And besides, you hardly ever get out!” Billy said as the two walked down the breakfast aisle.

“That’s not true, I get out plenty!” Pete defended.

“Stepping outside to smoke a bowl doesn’t count! It’s just the grocery store, I don’t get why you hate it so much!”

“Well, maybe it’s ‘cause every time I go shopping everyone looks at me like I’m some kind of serial killer.” White huffed as he shot a glance at the kid stocking the shelves behind them, who was now trying their best to pretend they hadn’t been staring at the duo. “I swear, these people think I’m gonna go all Rambo on them with a bunch of bananas.”

“At least you don’t get reprimanded for being out so late on a school night at age 37.” Billy shrugged. “Now what kind of cereal do you want?”

Pete squinted at the colorful boxes of sugary breakfast goods for a moment, then slightly cocked his head to the side as something caught his eye.

“Hey fella, you never told me that they started making peanut butter pop-tarts!” Pete said.

“I didn’t mention it because I don’t really like pop-tarts.” said Billy.

“Well, I do; and we are so getting these!” Pete said, tossing the pop-tarts into their basket.

A moment later, a box of froot loops joined the pop-tarts, along with the box of raisin bran Billy had picked out.

“You are such a little kid, White.” Billy sighed.

“Says the guy finished the last box while marathoning Darkwing Duck.” Shot back Pete.

With breakfast now taken care of, the two headed to the toiletries aisle.

“Billy, you have to check the labels for the kind that’s for “fine hair”; I can’t use just any old crap. And when you buy conditioner you gotta buy one that matches the shampoo, or we’ll end up smelling like a couple of teenaged boys who fell into a tub of their grandma’s perfume.” Pete explained as he added a bottle of expensive shampoo to their basket.

Billy rolled his eyes. White would insist upon shampoo that said it was for “extra-fine” hair. He himself didn’t really care what kind of shampoo they bought, just as long as his hair was clean.

“We don’t need new razors, do we?” Billy asked, cringing at the razorblades.

“Nah, we’re still good for a while.” Pete said.

“Good; if we did, I might have to perform another illegal surgery just to afford them.”

Pete looked over at the price tag from where he was crouched in front of the shaving creams, and recoiled.

“Yeesh.” He cringed as he placed a bright pink can of shave gel in their basket.

Billy had long gotten over the fact that Pete demanded upon women’s shave gel because of how “smooth” it was, just as he had gotten over that Pete monopolized their bathroom for a good two hours whenever he decided to shave his legs. Billy had even resigned to using it himself, and he had to admit, it did make his face baby soft.

Having satisfied their shower needs, Billy led Pete to the produce aisle. Pete raised an eyebrow as he watched Billy fill their basket with a variety of fresh fruits and vegetables.

“Uh, are we havin’ someone over for dinner?” Pete asked.

“No I just… When my mom came over last, she made that roast chicken for us, and—“

“Oh man, that was awesome. But not as much as that banana bread she brought over!” 

“I was thinking that maybe we should try learning how to cook so we don’t have to eat pizza rolls and Chinese takeout all the time.”

“Is that why you’ve been watching so much Food Network lately? And speak for yourself, fella, I totally know how to cook.”

“Yeah, like boxed macaroni and cheese.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing, except that if we learn how to cook, then instead of waiting for my mom to come and make us roast chicken, we could be eating our own roast chicken all the time!”

“Just don’t turn into Gordon Ramsay on me. And if you blow up the stove, I’m not ordering you any General Tso’s chicken to make up for it.”

“I’m pretty sure that if I can teach myself brain surgery, I can teach myself how to cook.”

Pete shrugged. Despite his flippant remarks, he was pleased, hell, maybe even excited about Billy’s decision. After all, if Billy learned how to cook, then that could mean a lot more banana bread in their future. Of course, there was the whole “we” that he kept mentioning…

“Billy, you sure we need that many onions?” Pete asked.

“Yeah, we’re making French onion soup.” Billy replied, adding yet another onion to their basket.

“What do mean “we”?”

“I mean I need you to help me chop all these onions!”

“No friggin’ way.”

“Come on White, it’ll be a good excuse to try out those gas masks we bought last week!”


End file.
